


Just Face It

by im_ashamed



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Ancient Chinese Magic, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, and whatnot, or at least as fluffy as i get
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-13 02:30:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7958881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/im_ashamed/pseuds/im_ashamed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“She’s tall, and slim, with hair so dark it’s almost purple.”</p><p>	“He’s short, and buff, you know, stocky, and his hair is totally fake blonde.”</p><p>	“She’s got huge blue eyes.”</p><p>	“They’re brown, dumbass.”</p><p>	“No they’re not.”</p><p>	“Dark blue, maybe, but not grey.”<br/> 	“Who said they were gray?”</p><p>	“And his hair has auburn highlights. It’s either natural, or it costs him thousands.”</p><p>	“She’s asian, right? Don’t you think she’s asian?”</p><p>	“No way, she’s whiter than wonder bread. He might be filipino, though.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Face It

“She’s tall, and slim, with hair so dark it’s almost purple.”

 

“He’s short, and buff, you know, stocky, and his hair is totally fake blonde.”

 

“She’s got huge blue eyes.”

 

“They’re brown, dumbass.”

 

“No they’re not.”

 

“Dark blue, maybe, but not grey.”

  
“Who said they were gray?”

 

“And his hair has auburn highlights. It’s either natural, or it costs him thousands.”

 

“She’s asian, right? Don’t you think she’s asian?”

 

“No way, she’s whiter than wonder bread. He might be filipino, though.”

 

And on and on and on it went, speculation as varied as it was unending. It wasn’t even a question Alya had meant to ask. All she did was turn to Marinette one day and say,

 

“Do you think Chat Noir is attractive. Objectively.” She added before Mari could launch into her ‘no one will ever compare to Adrien’ spiel. “Like, walking down the street, would you be like, ‘niiiiiice’?” 

 

Marinette thought for a minute, and then shrugged. “I know we can’t see a lot of his face, but his lips are kind of…big? It kind of looks like he had implants or something, it’s at odds with the rest of his face.”

 

“Nah,” Nino said, leaning into the conversation, “It’s his shoulders. You want a guy with broad, built ones, and his are so bony they’re about to come out of his jumpsuit.”

 

Alya frowned. “No, he’s got descent muscle, but his hair looks weirdly fake to me.”

“What’s wrong with it?” Adrien said, a little fast. Alya almost thought he had dared to snap at her, but he continued quickly, “I mean, I’m a natural blonde, and it looks okay to me. We can’t see his eyebrows though, so…”

 

That’s what had started it, and soon Alya was asking everyone. Not ‘Do you think Ladybug and Chat are attractive’? but ‘what do you think they look like?’. That was all. A simple description. And they provided them, eagerly.

 

And not a single one matched.

 

The suits they knew perfectly. Black and red latex. Chat had too many zippers and a belt for a tail, Ladybug didn’t have a single seam, and a weird fake scoop neck, as though they had cut it too low and run out of fabric before deciding on a more modest design. There was some consensus on the hair. Ladybug had two low riding pig-tails, and Chat’s hair was artfully mussed, but that was where the similarities ended. 

 

She was fat, no she was thin, no she was voluptuous. 

 

He was blonde, fake blonde, strawberry blonde, prematurely gray.

 

They looked at each other as though they were lovers. No, brother and sister. No, total strangers, somehow.

 

Yet if Alya showed people a photo or video, they knew. They recognized them. She even tried carrying around a picture of Marinette in a ladybug costume (Alya had meant it for herself, but only Marinette could squeeze into that suit-even though Alya had specifically bought a size up to circumvent that possibility-and she already did her hair ladybug style anyway) but people knew the difference. 

 

Now there was a new superhero in town and Alya needed a plan. You can not carry a secret alone for very long, even a good secret, if there is such a thing. Why are you keeping it secret if it isn’t shameful? If you share it with one person they are honored and you are free, and it can stay secret for the rest of your lives.

 

But all you need to do is tell one more person and your secret can travel from Canada to Calcutta. Weaknesses appear, fights start, one thing leads to another, and suddenly you find yourself sitting in a dingy cafe, pouring your heart out to one intrepid reporter. 

 

Alya intended to be that reporter. 

 

She had spent the afternoon compiling all the new footage for a post on the ladyblog, and as she reviewed it over and over, scouring the internet for the highest quality clips, an idea occurred to her. Once the post was up she brought up the best video she had and played it three times.

 

Once watching Ladybug.

 

Once watching Chat.

 

And once watching this new, yet-to-be-named, superhero.

 

She described them all with words, and sketched what she could. She wasn’t much of an artist, but maybe she could get Mari to do that, if it worked. 

 

She tossed that sheet of scribblings to the floor, pulled out another piece of paper and did it all over again, trying to forget what she had written the first time.

 

Then she did it again. And again. 

 

It was at this point that Nino came up the stairs and knocked at her door. She didn’t answer, but he pushed it open anyway. As he suspected she was glued to her computer screen, her “serious business” headphones on and leaving a huge dent in her hair.

 

He tapped her shoulder and she shrieked, slamming the spacebar and pausing what looked like news footage.

 

“Nino!” She said, her shriek turning into a squeal. She tore off her headphones and flung them onto her bed. “I think I’ve got it.”

 

Nino took a set on her bed. “Got what?”

 

“Okay, okay, look,” She leaned over the side of her chair and started gathering papers. “You know how no one can agree on what Ladybug and Chat look like?”

 

“Yeah.”

  
“But they recognize them in pictures. So I started writing down what I saw as I saw it and—“ Her brow furrowed as she read over what she had written. “No…” She flipped through a couple different sheets. “What…”

 

Nino gently took the papers out of her hands. Each had “Ladybug”, “Chat”, and “Man ‘O mystery” written on it somewhere, and underlined, the heading of their own section. Underneath were words and sketches.

 

None of them matched. Chat’s face was “angular” on one page, but “chubby” on the next. Ladybugs hair was pitch black with a little wave, but then dark brown and straight. 

 

Alya looked like she might cry. “I thought I was just-just refining it. I didn’t realize they were so different, I-“

 

Nino dumped the paper on Alya’s desk and put his arms around her. She was still sitting, so her head was level with his stomach. She buried her face in it.

 

He waited for her to cry, but all he felt was a soft sigh and she sat back up.

 

“Are you okay?”

 

She sniffed and rubbed off a stray tear. “I’m fine. Just hungry, probably.”

 

Nino nodded and stepped back so she could get out of the chair. She pulled on a flannel that was half falling out of her dresser, and kicked off her fuzzy shorts.

 

“We should get some comfort food. What about Mabel’s?” Nino liked moments like these. Watching Alya change as afternoon sun rolled down the side of the wall and turned the room golden and sparkly with dust motes. He was warm with the sense of domesticity. Alya had never been awkward around him before, but now that they were dating there was never that tense minute where she started at him until he left the room so she could take her pants off. 

 

She had yet to take her pants off in front of him for any reason other than changing, but the intimacy of the moment wasn’t lost on him. 

 

“Not Mabel’s, I need something greasy.”

 

Nino glanced at her computer before shutting it. It was still paused on an image of the Jade Turtle. His heart stuttered.

 

“Why do you need to know so bad?” He said, before he could think better of it.

 

“Nnh?” She mumbled around the hair tie she had stuck in her mouth as she pulled her hair into a ponytail. 

 

“I mean, you’re kind of driving yourself crazy over it, but what difference does knowing their identities make?”

 

Alya grabbed her purse. “I don’t need to know, Nino. I need to know _first_.” She checked her reflection in the mirror on the back of her door and Nino studied her profile. Words churned inside of him, appearing, disappearing, rising higher like waves on a stormy sea. 

 

Yet his lips wouldn’t do it. How could he ask her to keep secret the one thing she was already dying to share with the world? How could he ask her to go on living as though everything was normal even as he continued to struggle?

 

How would she forgive him if she ever found out?

 

“You will.” He said, the only promise he could make. “I’m sure of it.”

  
Alya smiled at him, beamed brighter than the sun spilling in the window behind her, and he knew he was a goner. She could write up the article right now. The only thing still in question was the date that would appear next to the headline.  

 


End file.
